


Against All Will

by beetlesacquired



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, POV Laurent (Captive Prince)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-11-13 06:10:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18026222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetlesacquired/pseuds/beetlesacquired
Summary: These are some of the key scenes in Laurent and Damen's relationship but from Laurent's point of view instead of Damen's.





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thank you for reading. I tried to stay as accurate to the books as possible, though there may be some minor differences just because of some things I've missed or forgotten. I've also cut out a lot of the dialogue for redundancy purposes. I hope you enjoy!

He traveled to the chambers with a small number of courtiers eager to view the slave. Laurent was not nearly as interested; he had no need or want for a slave and pitied the poor soul unfortunate enough to be given the position. He already had plans to free the man at the earliest convenience.  
  
Guion and the handler were already there flanking the door and, kneeling in the center of the room and draped in iron chains, the slave. Laurent understood at once why so many were necessary; the slave was quite possibly the largest man Laurent had ever seen, apart from maybe Govart. The man’s skin was a rich copper and black curls fell over his scowling face. Laurent almost fell back, and it required every ounce of will he held to maintain his casual expression.  
  
He had been held back from the front lines, being a green 12-year-old, but in the chaos of war, Laurent had snuck off to follow Auguste during the fight at Marlas. He had seen his brother’s death, and he had seen the face of the man who had killed him. It was the same face that looked up at him now with thinly veiled appreciation. Laurent’s stomach roiled with the need to empty itself onto the stone floor. He masked his expression with an extra layer of arrogance to make sure no one saw the brewing panic behind his eyes. He spoke, pleased with how clear his voice was. “I hear the King of Akielos has sent me a gift.”  
  
Laurent’s mind worked quickly, recovering from the initial horror and processing the situation in between sentences. This could be taken advantage of. This is a gift, he told himself. He chose his words carefully, knowing that he was the only person in the room who knew it was Damianos, rightful heir to the throne of Akielos, kneeling before him.  
  
He dismissed the care of the Akielon to Guion before he made a split, possibly foolish, decision. “I want to speak to him. Remove the gag.”  
  
Laurent’s heart was pounding in his chest.  
  
For years, he had practiced in his head what he would say to his brother’s killer. He had practiced in the mirror the expression of cold indifference he would wear. He had practiced the swing of the sword that would avenge Auguste.  
  
He could not do any of these things, however. Instead, Laurent moved to stand directly in front of the slave and asked, “What’s your name, sweetheart?” He said it the way he would a child, except with added loathing to the already existing patronization. The slave gazed up at him with eyes filled with spite but did not answer. Laurent switched from his native tongue to carefully pronounced Akielon and repeated his question.  
  
To the slave’s credit, Laurent didn’t expect him to speak. To his discredit, he said the exact wrong thing. In almost perfect Veretian, “I speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart.” The words earned him a blow to the face and a hand to the back of his head shoving his face into the stones. Laurent, however, was secretly pleased. It would not be well received in the court if he were to mistreat an obedient slave.  
  
“The King of Akielos says, if it pleases you, call him ‘Damen,’” the handler said, drawing gasps from the courtiers in the room. It only solidified what Laurent already knew. The Akielons thought they could be clever. Laurent supposed they thought themselves hilarious, sitting upon their ill-gotten thrones and having a great laugh at how wonderfully their scheme must have worked. Intended as a pleasure slave, Guion had said. _Very funny indeed. ___


	2. The Second Assassination

Laurent was reading, one of the few activities that made him feel like his life was perhaps normal and not the labyrinthine mess that it was. 

When the door to his chamber opened, Laurent looked up, his vision swimming. He hadn’t realized before how dizzy he was. He didn’t recognize the guards who were entering his chambers with the unchained Akielon slave. Laurent was about to be assassinated, and if the Akielon planned on participating (Laurent didn’t know why he wouldn’t), there wasn’t much he could do to prevent it.

His natural reaction to this, of course, was sarcasm. “Couldn’t sleep?” Laurent asked after closing his book and standing from the couch. He had, having previously considered this situation in his mind the best strategic position, which he moved to in a casual manner.

“I don’t think the prince is in an amorous mood,” the Akielon said, following Laurent’s sarcastic banter. Laurent realized that the Akielon had not been involved in the conspiring of the plot, but that didn’t eliminate the very likely possibility that he would leave Laurent to die. 

“I take a while to warm up,” Laurent replied, cueing one of the soldiers to unsheathe his sword. At any other moment, Laurent would have a dagger hidden somewhere on his person, but he was caught too unaware, and the multiple knives he knew he had were in his bedroom and therefore inaccessible. He vowed that if he survived this, he would stash one under the couch.

Two of the three men approached Laurent, leaving the third to loosely guard the Akielon slave. Laurent was just wondering how he was going to take on two assailants without a legitimate weapon when the slave drove his fist into his guard’s sternum, drawing the attention of one of the men originally slinking towards Laurent. That certainly made things easier.

The man lunged at Laurent with his knife. Laurent easily side stepped the attack, but due to his lingering dizziness, bumped into the table, knocking it and the goblet upon it onto the floor. He grabbed a nearby vase, swinging the heavy base into the man’s head and causing it to shatter. He did not go down easily, swinging his fist and hitting Laurent’s chest. Laurent stumbled into the wall where he dodged yet another knife attack, cutting the unfortunately placed tapestry into tatters. Laurent raced forward and picked up one of the jagged pieces of ceramic, thrusting it into the man’s neck before any more harm could be done. 

Looking up, Laurent saw that the slave had already dispatched one of the men and had the other restrained, likely to be taken for questioning. Laurent, knowing exactly what this attack meant and who it would be blamed on, decided that there could not be any survivors. 

Laurent raised the knife he had taken from the man he had killed and delicately slid it along the remaining survivor’s throat. Having not expecting this and seeing the danger in Laurent holding a weapon, the Akielon slave dropped the now dying body and grabbed Laurent instead. His massive hands closed around the fine bones in Laurent’s wrists. Laurent resisted, but was outmatched in brute strength and was forced to drop the blade. 

The slave took several steps back then, putting distance between himself and Laurent. Guards would be coming soon, and it would be easy, so easy, for Laurent to have the slave killed or worse. They both knew this. “You seem to vacillate between assistance and assault. Which is it?” Laurent puffed, the adrenaline of the fight only adding to the drugs causing him to feel unbalanced. 

The open disgust on the slave’s face when it was suggested that he was meant to be an accomplice surprised Laurent. A part of him could understand the slave’s previous wish to free the other Akielon slaves from maltreatment as he felt loyalty towards them, but Laurent? Laurent who had enslaved him, who had whipped him to near death? An honorable barbarian. Laurent didn’t think it would be the last time the Akielon slave would surprise him.

The approaching sounds of guards, real palace guards, sent relief through Laurent. His new realization made him uncomfortable, and he didn’t wish to acknowledge the reasons why. 

Laurent spoke to the guards, ordering them about and noting the surprise present in the slave when Laurent didn’t immediately sentence him to death and then further lied about the situation. 

The drug’s effects were still working through his system, so when his dictation was no longer necessary, Laurent leaned back against the wall, letting himself relax the slightest bit. It was then that he realized exactly which drug he had been dosed with. It was an Akielon drug (to match the knives) that made one hopelessly aroused, and Laurent, despite his iron will, was not immune to it. He stood up straighter, doing everything he could to hide his condition. Sparks of embarrassment flitted through him.

The Akielon, though naïve in the matters of human nature, was far more intelligent than anyone gave him credit for. He noticed Laurent’s affected state, and upon peering into Laurent’s goblet, was able to deduce the exact substance working its way through Laurent’s system. This could, perhaps, be less attributed to intelligence than to knowledge through personal experience and use. That was easy for Laurent to believe.

All the same, the slave was looking at him with an appreciation Laurent sometimes caught on the slave’s face when Laurent wasn’t being particularly atrocious. He wouldn’t deny having used his awareness of his own beauty to his advantage before or being used to the looks and comments, but he felt absolute repulsion at this. The barbarian couldn’t simply murder Laurent’s brother and be done with it; he wanted to have Laurent too.

He was getting himself riled up. He needed to calm down. He reminded himself that there was still danger in the air and that, despite Laurent’s disgust, the slave had saved Laurent’s life. Laurent didn’t like being in debt, especially to people he didn’t care for.

Laurent intervened when the slave made to escape. “Wait,” he said. “It’s too dangerous. Leaving now would be seen as an admission of guilt. The Regent’s Guard wouldn’t hesitate to have you killed. I can’t… protect you, as I am now.” The slave did not listen because of course he wouldn’t. He did not see the complexities that Laurent did. He saw the situation as a fairytale; he was the protagonist and Laurent the villain. He did not understand that Laurent was not the most malicious person in the castle. This brought about mirthless laughter in Laurent.

“Go, then,” he said, and the slave went.


End file.
